Don't make the same mistake your father made.
Those eight words, those eight terrible words may as well have been his death sentence, and it hadn't taken a genius to work out that they were also the activation code to the portkey. The moment that the last whispered syllable escaped his lips Draco felt the tug to his naval and felt a new wave of icy dread run through him.
This was really it-
The moment he'd been dreading for years had finally come upon him, the moment he'd lain awake thinking about and had been tortured because he was against. His father had made every effort to keep his son in line, and had that meant using crucio on Draco when he refused so be it. And now as he watched the blurred colours rush past him and felt his clothes flattening against his skin, he wished he were dead. As the colours began to merge and voices whispered in his ears, he knew that there was no escape.
His feet hit the ground with a soft thump that sent shock running up his legs, despite him bending his knees to take the force, his heart drumming at a sickening speed and his stomach twisting and knotting itself as though being squeezed in a fist. However as he straightened back up there was no sign of his fear, of the waves of terrifying fright passing through his soul, not a whisper of his intentions of running for his life. Instead there stood a confident young man, his chest out and eyes keen and bright, a small scowl sloping on his eyebrows as he scoured the people around him.
But Harry felt it- he felt every heartbeat rip at his chest, he felt the blind panic gushing through him as he sunk to his knees and curled up on his common room floor, so alone, so desperately frightened. But they were not his emotions, his emotions had left with the blonde, his love, hate and desire had been replaced by all of the frightening thoughts, the flashbacks of pain from the Cruciatus curse, everything that Draco kept locked tight flooded through him and he felt so helpless.
Draco had already switched on his special place; he'd already rid himself to think of nothing, not even the Veela whose arms he wanted wrapped around him that moment. He was a void- empty, a hollow soul.
He was in a large clearing, trees spreading out as far as he could see, surrounding him with trunks so large and branches spreading so far that it blocked out all light, almost like a black wall of shadows. He felt so isolated, as though wrought iron bars had replaced those trees, giving him no escape, nowhere to run. The greying bark looked dead, rotting and peeling like flesh from the bone but the colour of ash- charred remains. He felt sick again, but his mask never slipped once. Even the damp grass underfoot reminded him of bodies, hundreds upon thousands of dying and dead in battle- where his life would end without a doubt.
Draco's stormy grey-blue eyes, that could be filled with so much emotion it astounds people, could sparkle, could cry, were empty as he brought them down to be drawn into the blood red eyes that shone out from 100 feet away. Those eyes- he felt ill again as the smell of blood wafted from his feet with their colour, and he didn't even feel as Voldemort began to search his mind- only to be stopped in his tracks.
Voldemort's hairless eyebrow rose a little in thought as he stared into those mercury pools, the eyes that showed nothing of what the boy was thinking. In the past week, he had initiated over 30 junior Death Eaters from England and other parts of the world, and from reactions of pleasure, excitement and glee to terror so deep it was satisfying to see, he had never set his eyes upon one who could block everything so well. Instinctively he let his mind reel as he tried to open the boy by using Legilimency- only to reach the strangest thing he'd ever encountered. A void- dark and bleak, with no way of knowing what lay beyond it as it seemed endless. He pulled out abruptly and let a small smile curl the edge of his lip as he watched the boy with mild curiosity as he approached.
Draco- the only natural Occlumens he'd seen since Nicholas Flamel, strange seeing as his father had been such an idiot. His smile grew- yes, he'd have great plans for this boy, whatever Draco truly thought about it.
He kept his back straight and his strides purposeful and confident as he approached the Dark Lord, the person he hated more than anything he had ever experienced. He felt sick, and the terror that was throbbing in his rib cage was making him feel nauseous, but nothing he did gave it away. His face stayed devoid of emotion, hard and stony, his body was erect, and although his muscles were tensed it didn't look as though he were fearful. And he knew that the Dark Lord loved it, he loved seeing promise, the thought that he had another great Death Eater on his side instead of the idiots he currently had.
He felt like he was boiling alive, he was so cold his skin was bubbling and bursting, and his insides squirmed for escape, his heart beat boiling blood through his veins. He felt so angry- a white hot anger towards the man who had ruined so many lives, including his own, the sight of what his father had become, what he was to become. He felt sad, sad that his life was ending, that he was going to die whether the Dark won or not, and if the slim chance that he lived occurred he would be a hollow man, haunted by the things he would do. He was terrified, terrified of death and life at once, wishing not to die and or to stay alive either, and terrified of those blood red eyes and the stench that filled his head and made it swim.
But what had more impact on him than any of those was the sudden wave of solitude that made him feel so alone. He felt as though a part of his being had been ripped out of his chest, like he had just seen his own heart take its last few beats before his eyes. His feet carried him numbly as he felt the waves of hate and power ripple through the air, and his heart clenched painfully. He really was alone; there was no-one, nothing. It was all dark or light, black or white, and he had chosen a side. He had chosen the darkness- the cold, bleak, black life filled with the stench of death and decay and the screams of others.
A cold wind bit at his skin as the bitter weather lingered in the air and made his skin bristle, the hairs on his arms standing on end beneath his shirt- his blood red shirt. He felt the bile creep up his throat and discreetly swallowed it back down, ignoring his taste buds as they felt the bitter acid of his stomach. His heart felt the size of a bludger, hammering against his ribs until he could almost swear he heard them crack, the blood running through his veins until they glowed royal blue. The bones in his legs seemed almost non-existent, he felt as though he was going to fall flat on his face at any moment into the ground that smelled like blood, but he forced himself onward.
He came to stop mere feet before the Dark Lord- his black throne jarring a spiking as though it had been unleashed from Hell itself, and his eyes and chalky skin- the face that was hardly human. This thing preached about purebloods- about ridding the world of the non-magical and he was barely a man himself.
"My Lord," he muttered, the words tasting bitter in his mouth, as they turned to ash on his tongue- drained of all life and emotion to leave the simple sounds rumbling from his voice box and falling like liquid from his lips. His muscles screamed for him to stop as he lowered his head to a bow, his spine curling as though he were being crippled below the other man, beneath him. And even as he straightened himself again his eyes were still the last to come up to meet the creature before him. He could feel the other Death Eaters masked faces burning into him like red-hot brands, assessing him, marking him.
And it was in that moment that he wished for one thing only- to be protected from the fate that lined his way, from the life that he was now destined to live.
And it was in that moment, that in a tasteful room somewhere in Scotland, that a raven haired, green-eyed boy wanted to be that protector. He wanted to save Draco, he wanted to save him so badly it hurt him and yet he could do nothing. Nothing, the word sounded like death to his ears as he ran out onto the grounds to be absorbed into the night- so terribly alone.
"Draco, I've been expecting you," Voldemort hissed as Draco tried to hold his gaze a moment longer, every second that passed seeming like an eternity as the hate he saw in those scarlet pools clung to him like claws sinking into his flesh. Once more he lowered his head, but thought it best to say nothing as he stewed in the raging emotions he held back beneath his shell. The grass beneath his feet seemed dull and lifeless in the shadow of Voldemort's towering throne, it looked withered and old, worthless. His heart made another thwack at his ribs and he felt the shock ripple through his body, but no one could tell.
"Look into my eyessss, child," every syllable like a knife to his flesh as Draco brought his eyes to look into those of the man he was soon to call his master. The word child sent a chill to creep throughout his body and prick his skin, as though he were in fact something for this man to call his own, no- this monster. But Draco made himself feel nothing- and as his beautiful eyes met with the ugly, vile eyes of the other, they were cold.
"Tell me, what do you want?" Voldemort asked, the same question he had asked every other teenager and had reached almost the exact answer with all of them. What was his ambition, what was he willing to do, what did he want to come from this. Of course with Draco he would be marked whether he cursed the very air he breathed, he was far too valuable to lose to the light. Another rush of cold sped between them, and Voldemort watched with pleasure as neither of them noticed, Draco's thin maroon shirt rippling like water and letting in every wisp of wind.
Draco had his answer on the end of his tongue the second that Voldemort asked it. I want you to die a very painful death at the hands of Harry Potter, I want you to be damned to an eternal sentence of your worst nightmares, plagued with forks of fire and burnt to a crisp over and over again. I want to see that ghastly head of yours on a stake and the rest of you strewn somewhere I don't have to see again. I want you to suffer the same deaths as everyone you've ever killed, and I want your magic to be taken away, to become a squib- the very thing you are fighting against. But Draco wasn't stupid, and however much he wished to die he didn't wish it that much.
"My only wish is to serve you until my dying breath, my Lord," he said with an empty voice, his words just sounds, bitter like the wind, but as flat as the ground he stood upon. Voldemort seemed impressed, once more his lipless mouth curled into the closest he could get to a smile, and once more Draco felt nauseous.
"Then you sssshall be Marked," he hissed, and Draco felt the fist around his gut squeeze with all of his might and he felt his throat burn. As Voldemort stood upon his throne and descended to the grass below, Draco lowered onto one of his knees and began to unbutton his cuff, feeling as though he were about to have his head cut off. Everything seemed to slow down, the wind that whipped at his hair moved as though it were the consistency of syrup, and with every second that drew on, the veins on his arms turned bluer and his blood pumped faster. The terror boiling on his insides raged like wildfire, he felt as though he'd just drunk poison.
He folded his sleeve over once, his eyes sending images of meat in the place of the silk, and the smell of rotting flesh wafted up to his face and his head spun. He ignored it and folded it a second time, Voldemort's black robes dominating his vision as he tried to delay it for all he was worth and folded it again. With every new bit of skin that was exposed he felt more and more helpless, he became more and more aware of the fate he was destined for, the life he was going to live. The killing, the death, following, giving his life, it all seemed so petty in the big picture, but it dominated his existence, he felt ill.
And as he pushed up the last of his sleeve he knew that it was all too late- he was never going to live a normal life again. Draco felt another of his ribs throb with his quick heartbeat as he handed over his arm, and as those chalky bony fingers wrapped around his wrist and gave his arm an impatient tug, he thought he would throw up. The burning inside his chest was almost unbearable, and his arm went limp beneath the freezing, dead hands of his soon to be master. Voldemort let his wand hover over his skin, taunting him.
Draco kept his eyes on the skin of his arm, the creamy living flesh in the hands of these white hands that seemed like spiders- deadly. Voldemort's wand skirted across his skin as he found the right place, but somehow he knew that the Dark Lord's bloody eyes were on him.
"Morsmordre," Voldemort hissed as his wand stopped its movement, and Draco stopped breathing. Suddenly a pain like he had never felt before enveloped him, his arm felt like it was being torn away from his body and he bit the sides of his cheeks and clenched his fists so hard that his hands shook within the Dark Lord's grip. He forced himself not to scream as the pain tore through his flesh a thousand times worse than he had ever felt before, but soon his voice box was burning. He let a small cry flow from his mouth just seconds before the pain stopped and his muscles turned to jelly as he slumped forward, but for some reason Voldemort hadn't let go.
"What iss thisss?" Voldemort demanded, jerking at his arm and making him wince as he brought his head upward to take a look at his mark. Of all the things that should have shocked him so far, he was completely unprepared for what he saw. His arm was bright red and burnt where the mark should have been, the skin around it pink and raw, but there was no mark. He couldn't help but let his mouth crack open a little in surprise as new emotion began flooding through him like liquid gold, like a healing potion.
Hope, hope that there may be another way, a hope that meant he might not have to become his father and live a life in which he wished he could do anything but live. Relief, relief that the pain he had gone through was worth it, because he wasn't his servant, he wasn't marked. He wouldn't be arrested on sight if the mark was seen and he wouldn't have to kill people who didn't deserve to die. And more to the point- sheer astonishment. How could the Dark Mark not have worked? It was a dark spell designed by the Dark Lord himself, it had always worked before then and it was extremely powerful.
"What iss thisss?" the dark lord hissed louder and jabbed his wand into the burn. Draco's jaw twitched in pain but he showed nothing else as he tried to calm himself of the shock. Draco felt another wave of dread with the knowledge that he was still at Voldemort's mercy, in the hands of the most evil wizard in the world.
"I don't know," he said, looking up into the enraged eyes of Voldemort, the grip on his arm tightening painfully and his hand began turning numb. "I have no idea, I don't know why it won't-" his words were cut off as Voldemort cast the spell again, and once more he only just managed to bite his cheeks before he let a cry escape his lips. Blood swept over his tongue as he bit into his own flesh but he barely noticed it over the intense pain flooding his senses.
He felt as though he was being burned alive from the inside out, and that his arm was being ripped apart by flesh eating beetles. The firm grip around his wrist- those dead spidery fingers that were wrapped around his arm like claws digging into his skin were the only things keeping him from ripping his arm away in pain. His eyes stung and pricked with tears that threatened to form, but he bit harder into his cheek and clenched his fist so hard that warm blood began to pool beneath his fingers.
Voldemort held the spell longer than he had ever done before- but as the seconds passed he stared at the tip of his wand; it began to form the mark, but then it just disappeared and faded, and he grew more and more angry. But he knew he'd need to lift the spell- he'd have to figure out another way of branding Draco as his own, because whatever magic had been cast to keep the mark off seemed too powerful to break. He had specifically designed his spell to be too powerful to override, to be too strong to remove or even tamper with, but now he'd come to face a boy that it wouldn't even imprint.
But as Draco's skin began to bubble he let a low growl escape his throat as he threw the boy aside. Draco was barely aware of what had happened, the pain had fogged his mind and he was having trouble thinking. The throbbing that spread throughout his arm, the stinging of the skin that was now blistered and singed was too much, it lingered and hurt in more ways than he was used to. Draco pushed himself up onto his knees and cradled his arm for a moment, screwing up his eyes, gasping for breath. The feelings he had felt before were now replaced by pain and panic, and he wasn't sure which ones he preferred.
Suddenly he felt someone grab the scruff of his fine silk top, and he heard the material rip as he was hoisted to his feet, his knees barely supporting his weight, but he forced himself to look up and let his arm drop. His stormy eyes were clouded in pain, and still he managed to keep his face blank, only the small trail of blood from his deathly pale lips and the firm hands of the Death Eaters on either side of him any indication that he was hurt at all.
Voldemort brought Draco's face up with one finger in a swift movement, and Draco's eyes came to stare into the enraged fiery pools of the Dark Lord's. Once more he felt afraid. Voldemort's face was contorted in fury and before Draco could contemplate what was happening, Voldemort had grabbed his injured arm and pulled it out between them. Draco felt Voldemort's fingers sink into his skin and his jaw twitched again as he looked away in fear of what punishment he would get if he defied in the slightest.
Fear, once again his heart turned into a bludger as it crushed against his ribs and his gut twisted painfully- all shred of relief banished with a new wave of dread for the consequences that would no doubt follow his strike of dumb luck. It wasn't that Voldemort wanted him that badly, it was that Voldemort had now shown fault, shown that he wasn't infallible. Draco inwardly squirmed as he felt Voldemort inch closer and he could feel the rage come off him like a foul stench and his gut wrenched and his blood boiled in his veins.
"Thiss is not over- I will see you sssooner than you think," he hissed and Draco felt his cold breath hit his face making him want to vomit, but instead he kept his eyes lowered and nodded, wincing as Voldemort threw his arm away again. His pulse was racing and his arm was hurting him badly but once more he tried to straighten up and show confidence, but he was now treading a thin line between confidence and arrogance.
He caught one last look of the wall of shadowy trees and the pale light that hit the side of Voldemort's icy features before something was thrown roughly into his hand and he felt another pull to his naval. His stomach gurgled and he felt a ball rise in his throat, but his muscles relaxed a little and he couldn't help but feel relieved as the colours rushed past him and he knew he'd lived to see another day of freedom.
…
Harry sat by the tree that his father and friends had sat beneath years below, and stared out onto the lake, watching the water shimmer with the setting sun. But even though he was looking at it he wasn't seeing it, his mind was elsewhere. He was lost in a sea of despair and horror, of pain and panic, that were both his own and not, consuming him and eating at his insides like a cancerous disease. The time that had passed seemed like hours, from when he had gone to the Hospital Wing to find the bed empty, to running into the grounds in blind panic, fear for the one he loved and fear from something he wasn't even experiencing.
But suddenly he felt something very strange, like a piece of himself had just been put back to place, like a missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. He raised an eyebrow and peered around, letting the glare off the water sting his eyes as his hope began to drop, and he saw nothing. He sighed and leant back against the tree, but as he heard a small thud and the ruffle of leaves from the bushes at the entrance of the forest, he had sprung to his feet before he could think otherwise.
Draco felt his knees buckle beneath him as he hit the ground and slumped forward, feeling a metallic tang to his mouth from the blood that covered his tongue. But even though the pain throbbed through his burnt skin and the horrors that lay ahead of him were still there, he couldn't help but sigh in relief as he rolled onto his back and thanked every god in existence that he was still alive- still free.
He was lying in soil between the stems of bushes that seemed to surround him, and the trunks of two huge trees on either side of his body. The smells of pine and decaying leaf litter purged the fetid stench of death that had filled his head, and he closed his eyes and smiled, wishing the moment wouldn't end. He placed his injured arm delicately over his chest and let the other one take in the feel of the leaves and the earth beneath him as he sighed in content.
He had been given another chance- whatever fate was leading him had showed mercy and had given him more time- more time to find a way to get out of the mess that was his life. He took a handful of dirt and let it run through his fingers, barely aware of the small half moon cuts that littered his palms.
"Draco?"
Draco cracked open his eyes and winced as he tried to push himself up a bit to see the speaker- most likely to tell them to bog off and leave him in his moment of serenity. His arm ached as he bent forward and placed his other elbow beneath him and in the damp earth, but as his eyes followed upward past the school robes to see the broad shoulders and finally face, all thoughts of telling them to bog off were abandoned.
Harry's face was hard to see against the pink sunlight from the setting sun over the lake, he was silhouetted against a shining outline and for a moment he wondered if he'd done that strange trick again. But slowly the figure bent down into the shadows of the trees where Draco lay, and he knew that he wasn't. His emerald eyes shone brightly against the surroundings, his handsome face lighting up the dread of Draco's evening as he swept the raven hair from his eyes. Draco watched as Harry's eyes skirted over him where he lay and he felt his stomach flutter- a much more welcoming experience form the gut wrenching pain and fear he had experienced earlier.
"You're hurt," Harry pointed out, his voice filled with pain and his eyes sad as he shuffled further and gently took the arm from Draco's chest. Draco shuddered happily and let a small smile curl the edge of his lip, too happy to care that he let down his guard, too relieved to care about much really. He winced as Harry gently turned his arm over, and felt a little bubble of warmth well up inside of him as Harry let out a small gasp; he cared.
Slowly the brunette lowered himself beside the blonde who was still propped up and looking at him with interest, but he held onto his arm as delicately as he could, while he looked in horror at what he saw. Draco's gentle, soft skin was like satin beneath his fingers, it was creamy and pure and delicate, and it twisted his heart to see the injury on something to perfect. There were scratches along his wrist from where someone had grabbed him and his own palms were bloody with small half moons from where he'd clenched his fists hard enough to draw blood. But as his eyes moved up towards his elbow he frowned and felt his gut churn as he saw the place where he knew the Dark Mark should now be.
His skin was bubbled and burnt with blisters erupting from charred skin, the surrounding skin red raw or bruised. He let his fingers brush over the surface, scarcely even touching, and frowned to himself. He gently uncurled his fingers and felt a wave of pleasure tingle his skin as Draco let him, letting his fingers be manipulated as Harry took a closer look.
Draco shivered under the light touch and closed his eyes, the throbbing from his wounds unimportant to the strange, happy feelings that were pushing into his mind. Voldemort, the Mark, it was all forgotten to the tingling of his skin as he curled his toes and let a small smile tug at his lip, feeling the brushing of Harry's fingers on his unharmed skin as he was looked after- cared for. The decaying leaves beneath him cushioned him nicely, and for the first time in weeks he felt comfortable, even if he was still in pain.
"Does it hurt?" he muttered, and Draco curled his lip in return. Harry let his fingers run around the wounds and his fingers twitched with the feeling and Draco felt himself shift a little in the dirt, moving himself a little closer as he did so. Harry felt his heart throb as he ran his fingers over the skin that had been placed in his hands, the arm of the person who wasn't pulling away. His stomach fluttered as he felt the other shift a little closer but kept his eyes on the arm, however much it tempted him to lose himself in the stormy depths of Draco's eyes.
"Terribly," Draco whispered, letting himself smirk as Harry gave him a worried side glance before catching on. Draco felt his head go a little lighter, as everything else seemed to vanish to leave only the two of them, alone. He shifted his hips in the mud until they were almost touching and felt a wave of heat pass through him as he saw the edge of Harry's lip curl just as his was, although his eyes were still on his burnt skin.
Perhaps it had been because of the shock, the drastic change between something so terrible to something nice that made Draco change his approach. Or maybe it was the fear that it may be the only time he'd be able to do it, that the next time Voldemort tracked him down, he'd lose every chance he had of this moment again. Being alone, having his cares vanish as though they were completely unimportant, it was bliss. But the real reason was that the moment he'd opened his eyes and seen the person standing above him, that missing part of his heart, his soul that had vanished as he took his last walk of freedom returned.
"Terribly," Harry muttered, giving him a glance as he tried to control himself as he brushed his fingers over the same skin again. "That's a lot," he mused and he could feel the blonde looking over at him, those stormy eyes seeming to warm his skin in under their gaze. He hid his smile beneath his hair and felt his stomach do a flip as his pulse rose and blood gushed adrenalin around his body.
Slowly, in movements that seemed so natural yet were completely spontaneous, Harry brought his green eyes back up to the Slytherin's, and green and grey locked together like magnets. Without looking at what he was doing, concentrating on those pale lips that he wanted to plant his own upon, his skin, everything about him, he began to lean over as he laid Draco's arm back over his chest.
"You'll need some medical attention," he muttered as he began to lean over slowly, his eyes never leaving those grey pools that had swallowed him whole, which glistened in the light of the setting sun like diamonds. Their bodies brushed and touched and both felt the tingles run down their spine as Harry slowly placed his leg over Draco and onto the damp ground below.
"Mm, I need attention," Draco agreed absently, unable to rid the smile from his face as his blood began to warm in his veins and his heart beat comfortably in contrast to the pain he had felt before. He felt Harry slide his leg over his; feeling the warmth of the body against his own and he shuddered as he saw the green eyes sink ever closer. Harry sat lightly on Draco's stomach, one arm to the left of his face as he slowly sunk a little lower; Draco's smile growing as his heart beat faster and he felt his skin warm- forgetting about the pain.
"Want me to- kiss it better?" Harry muttered, and Draco felt his insides explode sending a ripple to brush along every part of his body like a feather and he felt a shudder creep up his spine. He brought one leg up a little as Harry sunk lower still, those eyes so alluring he wanted to stare into them forever.
"Mm," Draco agreed when they were only inches apart, and Harry smirked causing Draco's skin to crawl before he swooped down and brushed his lips against those beneath him. A rush of pleasure swept through Draco like the rush of a drug as he moaned and pushed up a little to push into the kiss, deepening it as he felt the Veela's tongue slide into his mouth to be met by his own. He felt about ready to burst, but was unable to do more with the arm that held him up and the injured one on his chest that he had so far forgotten about.
And suddenly nothing else mattered, he forgot about everything without needing to force himself to, as he felt the cool fingers slide between the buttons of his shirt and they popped undone easily. His elbow began to weaken as he pressed his lips against the other's hungrily, letting the tongue explore his mouth and taste the metallic blood that had seeped from his cheek. Slowly he let himself sink down, unwilling to break away even as he began to feel the lack of oxygen burn his lungs, in fact it was the brunette who tore his lips away letting Draco moan with his loss.
Harry smirked, feeling the pleasure of something filling his heart like he had never felt before, like he was becoming whole for the first time in his life. He looked down to see Draco pout wonderfully, his lips moist and pink with grey stormy eyes filled with passion and desire.
"Bastard," Draco muttered and Harry let one last smile curl his lip before he sunk down until Draco was flat against the earth and pressed their mouths together, planting kisses on the edge of his lips and pulling away before Draco could do anything about it. Draco growled low in his throat and Harry smiled against his lips as he broke away and moved down toward his neck, feeling a wave of pleasure that came with the small gasp he got in return as he nipped Draco's collar bone.
Small tantalising kisses, just like in his dream. And now he was living the dream, living the fantasy, and it was every bit as exciting as he had hoped. Draco arched his back to distract the other who brought his head up momentarily and locked his lips against the other's powerful mouth before he could pull away. He let his tongue skirt over his lips until they opened up for him, letting him nip at his bottom lip playfully. Harry moaned against his lips and it was his turn to smirk as he pressed against them and lost himself in the moment, never wishing for it to end.
For the first time- nothing else mattered.